Tea and Cake
by sherlockdrinkstea
Summary: SPOILERS: SET AFTER THE SEASON 6 FINALE... The Burkes and their young son think that Neal is dead. Gone. Never coming back. So what do they do when he shows up on their doorstep, on the run and full of secrets? Sarah and Neal fluff with some exciting plot twists!
1. Chapter 1

"Goodnight, little one. Make sure you have a good sleep, and we'll see you in the morning." Neal looked close to tears. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his Spiderman pyjamas and caught Elizabeth's hand.

"Mummy, no!"

"Sweetie..." Elizabeth Burke gazed at her son, trying to tug her hand free without setting off the waterworks. Peter, who stood by the bedroom door. watching, chose that moment to wade in.

"Kiddo, you have to let your mum and I go. We're just going out to dinner, we'll see you real soon, I promise."

"Can I come?" Neal asked petulantly, his bottom lip trembling.

"No, sweetie. Your dad and I are going to do boring grown-up stuff all night. We're going to talk, and drink _wine_..."

"Yucky," said Neal. Elizabeth laughed, tracing the outline of his small feet underneath the quilt with a finger.

"Plus, you'll get to stay here, with Sarah," she said, glancing over her shoulder to where Sarah Ellis, their next-door neighbour and babysitter, was leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold. The prospect made Neal visibly brighten.

"Sawah, can we have chocolate stwawberries and watch Scooby-Doo and bake a cake like the last time?" he asked eagerly, sitting up in bed. Sarah turned a little pink, looking apologetically at Elizabeth and Peter.

"I'm sorry – last time he had a nightmare..."

"It's fine," laughed Peter, "Of course you can, Neal. Just make sure you brush your teeth, ok?" he wagged his finger, pretending to be stern. The effect, usually so realistic due to his day job as a federal agent, was ruined somewhat by his smile.

"Ok, dad." Neal had cheered up a lot, but when Elizabeth stood up from his bed and made to leave, he called out again. "One story. Before you go. Please?"

Peter sighed, checking his watch. "It's ok, hun," he said to Elizabeth, "taxi won't be here for another ten minutes. Sorry about this," he added, turning to Sarah. "One quick story and we'll leave you to it."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," said Sarah, settling back to wait.

" _The Adventure of the Census Scribe!_ " Neal cried out excitedly, squirming into a sitting position and pointing his tiny, five year old fingers at the bookshelf. Sarah noticed that the case strained under more books than she had in her entire house, and wondered if it was because Neal was a voracious reader or if Elizabeth and Peter were just pushy parents. Judging by what she knew about her neighbours, she had to suppose it was the former.

Elizabeth pulled a thick, faded volume from the shelves and sat down on the side of her son's bed. Neal wriggled back under the covers and pulled them up to his chin, waiting eagerly for the story. The book was obviously a favourite. The cover was worn and the glossy ink of the title was starting to lose its sheen. Sarah found her eyes drawn to the picture of the man standing haughtily underneath the title. He had brown hair, striking blue eyes and was wearing a top hat and tails. Even from the drawing, she could tell that he was shockingly handsome. And oddly familiar...

"That's Neal," said Peter in an undertone, as Elizabeth began to read aloud. "He's, ah, our Neal's namesake and godfather. He was a remarkable man." Sarah nodded, realising where she had indeed seen the man before. There were several photographs of him in the Burke's house, smiling next to Peter, dressed up with the Burkes at some family wedding, standing with Elizabeth at Niagara Falls, both of them sporting sopping wet hair and goofy smiles.

"When he... when he passed, his friend made us a series of picture books about him. You know, for Neal," Peter continued, gazing fondly at his wife and son, tears glistening in his eyes. "Poor kid was distraught when 'Uncle Neal' died last year. We all were, but the books help us remember him."

"That's... lovely," said Sarah, at a loss for words. Peter laughed.

"Go on, you can say it. It's a tad weird. Neal's friend, Mozzie, he was quite the character. Making a series of books about his partner in crime was not the strangest thing he's done, believe me." There was a pause, where Peter surreptitiously wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "The books are good, at any rate. Neal seems to like them."

Elizabeth had just reached the part in the story where book-Neal was making off with half a million pounds in cash after stealing an ancient census document. At the next turn of the page, the charming hero was apprehended by police. Peter raised his eyebrows at Sarah.

"All true stories, you know. Except the last page. Neal never got caught, but we have to teach our son about morality at some point." Elizabeth put the book back on its shelf, kissing her Neal on the head before turning off the light. Neal mumbled something sleepily in reply, Peter padded across and said goodnight, and then all three adults were standing on the landing outside, slowly closing the door.

"There we go, he's all tired out now," said Elizabeth, smiling. "Come on hun, the taxi is waiting." Sarah followed them to the door, making the usual assurances to keep everything perfect for their return.

"Make sure you relax, Sarah, ok?" Elizabeth said, giving her a hug. "We'll be back in the morning. I'm sure you can hold the fort." And then they were gone in a cloud of perfume and thick coats, leaving Sarah alone in her neighbour's house, wondering about the dashing young man who had died last year and torn the Burke's family apart. She thought about the story she had heard upstairs, about the picture book that was supposedly _true_ , and wondered about the nature of the relationship Peter, the FBI agent, had had with this other, enigmatic Neal, the man in the photographs. Above all, she wondered how he had died.

With the younger Neal, surprisingly, tucked up in bed, Sarah was free to spend the evening as she pleased. She shoved her feet into the slippers she had brought across with her and mooched into the kitchen.

She loved the Burke's house. It had the same layout as her own next door, but Elizabeth had a knack for shaping the space to her family's needs. Elegant rugs stopped the youngster's socked feet from slipping on the hardwood floor. An assortment of lamps bathed the open plan kitchen in a warm glow that was perfect for both reading and watching a romantic film on the sofa.

Sarah made herself a cup of tea: milk and a spoonful of sugar, just the way she liked it, before making her way towards the living area. She would watch that documentary on the history channel first, then make a start on that essay for her after-work night class...

A noise interrupted her, making her jump. Six taps on the door in a rhythm that she recognised: iambic tetrameter. She took a deep, calming breath, noticing that she had split a bit of the tea in her fright. Ok, so the pizza she had ordered twenty minutes ago from the Burke's landline was early, and the delivery guy was into poetry. Definitely deserving of a tip. She opened the door, hands outstretched to grab the pizza – and froze.

There was a man on the doorstep, alright, but he wasn't bringing her pizza. He was leaning against the honeysuckle covered wall of the Burke's porch like he owned the place, a dark fedora with a black velvet ribbon tilted low over his eyes, even though it was the eight o'clock and already dark outside. One hand rested on his stomach, the other hung limply by his side. Without hesitating, Sarah slammed the door shut in his face, drew the chain across and grabbed her baton from her handbag. Then she opened the door a crack and peered out into the night.

"Who are you?"

In the split second the door had been closed, the man had moved. He was now leaning against the wall, his face level with hers, though still obscured by that ridiculous hat.

"I think the real question here," he said, in a voice afflicted by an odd shortness of breath, "is who are _you_? Isn't this the residence of Peter and Elizabeth Burke?" Sarah relaxed her grip on the baton somewhat, but still made no move to unlock the door.

"It is. I'm their neighbour. I'm afraid they're not in at the moment."

"Ah," he breathed. "That's a pity. I don't suppose I could come in?" Sarah hesitated.

"I must insist on knowing your name first," she said. He gave her the barest hint of a smile.

"I'm a friend of Peter's, trust me." He lifted his head, and for the first time, Sarah caught the glimmer of bright blue eyes, intelligent and kind. Very slowly, she unlocked the door. For some reason, she felt that she could trust this stranger. He limped across the threshold, putting out a hand to steady himself against the doorframe. It was the hand that had been covering his stomach, and she saw that the white shirt beneath was stained with blood.

"You're hurt."

"Just a scratch. Nothing to worry about," he murmured, before falling face first onto the Burke's sofa. Sarah knew she had to call Peter. She picked up her phone and started dialling, but before she could hit green, two things happened at once.

The TV, still set to the history channel, was running a news bite. The presenter stood behind a picture of a handsome man, wearing a dark suit and white shirt, photographed in mid-sprint. Blue lights flashed behind him. He had a fedora clutched in one hand. Brown hair and blue eyes, this time open wide with fear. Just as Sarah began to connect the dots, she heard a voice behind her.

She turned to see Neal Burke standing at the foot of the stairs, his brown hair all fluffed from sleep. He was clutching his teddy bear, rubbing his eyes and staring at the man on the sofa.

"Uncle Neal?"

The man lifted his head weakly. "Hey, kiddo," he breathed, before slumping sideways in the most graceful faint Sarah had ever seen.

* * *

 **Hi everyone, hope you enjoyed this first little snippet! I would love to hear what you thought of it and any comments you might have! :) I've recently returned to the world of FF so apologies if my writing is a little rusty!**


	2. Chapter 2

When Neal came to, he noticed two things. One: there was a beautiful woman standing not three feet away from him, and two: he was handcuffed to the sofa. Strangely, this wasn't the first time he had found himself in this exact situation.

"Hello," he said, trying to sit up before remembering that his head was pounding and the world was spinning.

"Hi," said the woman. "It might be better if you just stayed where you are for the time being."

"Ah." Neal ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair, an old habit, and glanced around him. He was in the Burke's house, though only God knew why. The last time he had seen the Burkes, he had been spying on them as they attended his funeral. His being here was bound to raise some interesting questions.

Neal closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered were police sirens and diamonds – lots and lots of diamonds, spilling out of his pockets, running through his fingers. Well, obviously something had gone _very_ wrong indeed, else he wouldn't be lying on the Burke's lovely red and gold sofa. "Begging your pardon," he said suddenly, "But who are you?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "You don't remember?"  
"I'm afraid not."

"I'm Sarah. I live across the street. I'm babysitting for the Burkes."

"Excellent. You can tell them I stopped by."

"You're not going anywhere…" Sarah trailed off when she saw the unlocked cuffs gleaming on the floor. He had picked them at some point during the conversation, without really stopping to think about it. Funny how instinct takes over.

"Nice handcuffs," he said. "May I ask why you have them?"

"My line of work…" Sarah seemed too stunned to elaborate on that point. She reached for her handbag, and in a flash had produced a baton. "Stay right where you are."

"Um-" She unfurled the baton with a snap of her wrist.

"I mean it."

"Of course, of course." Neal swung his legs back onto the sofa and drew the blanket up to his chin. "I'll sit tight and… wait for Peter, I suppose?" He sighed, trying to will back the memories of the night. After he had stolen the diamonds… what then? He had planned to escape into the night, as per usual, but something must have gone wrong. _Exceptionally_ wrong, if he had arrived at the Burke's house moments before collapsing on their sofa, thus revealing to them that he had faked his death all those years ago. _Damnation_ , he thought, _what a pretty puzzle._

Sarah padded over and settled down in an armchair across from him. "The Burkes will be back any minute. I've already called them."

"Great." Neal flumped back onto his pillows, staring at the ceiling, trying furiously to remember, to fill in the gaps.

"Tell me what you were doing," she demanded. He could tell that she was watching him intently.

"Oh," he said, with the ghost of a smile, "Would that I could, trust me." The seconds passed in strained silence, until they both broke it in unison.

"Tea?" offered Sarah, just as Neal asked,

"Are we alone?"

The answer to both questions, as it turned out, was _no_. As Sarah strode to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, watching him suspiciously all the while, Neal heard the sound of little feet pattering down the stairs.

"Uncle Neal! I knew it was you!" Neal grinned, the first genuine smile he had experienced in a long time, as Peter and Elizabeth's son flew towards him. The kid had grown since Neal had last seen him. The five year old stood nearly as tall as his waist, and was practically bursting with energy, although it must have been nearly midnight.

"Neal!" Sarah came rushing back from the kitchen. Both Neal and the younger Neal whipped their heads in her direction. "Not you," she snapped at the older one. "Come here, sweetie." Peter's son, the younger Neal, turned and happily made his way towards Sarah, who gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on the head.

"Sawah," he told her excitedly, voice lisping like mad, "Sawah, it's Uncle Neal, he's back!"

"I know, sweetie."

Just then, there was the sound of keys turning in the lock. The front door slammed open and Peter and Elizabeth rushed in, out of breath and dripping wet from the rain.

"Sarah? Sarah! You said… you said on the phone…"

"Neal." Elizabeth took several steps backwards when she saw him there, collapsed on her sofa. Her eyes narrowed. He was just about to say something, when Peter whirled in his direction.

" _You_."

"Peter-" Neal sprang to his feet without thinking and felt a sharp pain explode across his chest. Memories came rushing back. He had been stabbed. Or slashed. He didn't know the technical term. Whatever one wanted to call it, there had been a knife involved and the bleeding that had been mostly 'under control' whilst he had been talking to Sarah had decided to make itself known again. The pain was so much he was tempted to black out – for the second time that night. He opted instead to swear. Loudly.

The slap came from nowhere, knocking him back down onto the sofa. Elizabeth loomed over him, white-lipped and trembling.

"How _dare_ you use that language in my house, in front of my _son-_ " She hit him again, harder, then sunk down next to him, sobbing and shaking. Her tears caused a lump to well up in Neal's throat; he felt his own eyes pricking.

"I want you to get out." The voice was gravelly, pained. It came from across the room.

"Peter-" Neal started again, trying with everything he had to keep his voice from shaking.

" _Get out_."

"Hun," Elizabeth gulped, "He needs medical attention."

"I wasn't aware that dead people needed medical help."

Sarah placed the younger Neal on the floor and tried to pluck up the courage to speak. The very air in the room seemed heavy.

"He could… he could stay at my house. I dropped out of med school when I was in my third year, but I have enough training to look after him." Peter shook his head, water droplets flying everywhere.

"Sarah, don't bother. This man doesn't deserve your help. After everything he's done!" he let out a sharp bark of a laugh.

"I can explain," said Neal quietly. His voice rasped, his breath came in short, startling bursts. "I've made so many mistakes, Peter. So many. But I can explain…"

"You're not ready to hear his explanation, Peter." Sarah wasn't quite sure why she was being so vocal in such a deeply personal matter. It didn't concern her in the slightest. But now that she had started, she found that she had to continue. "He can stay at mine. At least, until you're ready. Then you can go from there. Now… now is not the time to be making important decisions."

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged glances.

"She's right, hun," said Elizabeth, finally. "You're not ready. We need to adjust, we need time to _comprehend._ "

"You… came back from the dead, Neal," said Peter slowly. "How could you do that to us?" Sarah knelt down beside Neal's sofa. He draped an arm across her shoulders, almost dreamily.

"Come on…" Together, they limped out of the Burkes house, leaving Peter standing in the living room with rainwater rolling down his coat, staring at nothing. Elizabeth was holding her son in a tight embrace, but Sarah could tell that she wasn't really _there_ , wasn't really with him. The shock had obviously done a number on them. She was almost surprised that nobody had feinted.

It was only later, when she had settled Neal down on _her_ sofa, piled under blankets and with three stitches in his chest, did he beckon her closer and murmur in her ear:

"By the way, just thought you should know…"

"Yes?"

"I think the police might be after me."

 **Hi everyone, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I would love to hear your thoughts on it, so please read and review! Hope you all have a nice summer and I'll try and update this thing at some point in the near future... :)**


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